


If you could envision the meaning of a tragedy you might be surprised to hear it's you and me

by raggedypond



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-29
Updated: 2013-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-06 15:14:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1108370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raggedypond/pseuds/raggedypond
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Moment has a really appealing offer for the Doctor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If you could envision the meaning of a tragedy you might be surprised to hear it's you and me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [marymerthur](https://archiveofourown.org/users/marymerthur/gifts).



> This is a Christmas gift for my senpai, Mary, and for the cucumber to my tarator, Vanessa, because they live far from me and I couldn't get them proper gifts, and they both really deserved one.

The Doctor stepped into the TARDIS, heaving a sigh, his eyes locked on the floor. Slowly, he walked to the console, unfastening his tie, and turned the engines on. He wanted to go somewhere – anywhere – just not here, not alone. Robot-like, he took off his coat and then his jacket and carefully put them on a chair. That silence was so loud that it was almost deafening. Filled with despair, he needed to talk to someone but he was alone – and had no intention of taking someone with him. He’d destroyed too many lives; he’d crashed too many souls. Desperately clutching at humans, he’d scarred every one of them, he’d left a mark, a bleeding gash that was never to heal, and he could never forgive himself. He would have to live with it – he’d wiped his own kind, and he’d broken so many humans. It was time for him to stop running and to admit to himself what a monster he was.

As he was too ashamed to even look at the TARDIS, he averted his eyes from the console. It was almost painful to be here, to walk these halls and step on these floors and touch these walls. How long until he betrayed her as well? The room was full with the ghosts of all these people who’d been here, who’d left their mark upon his hearts. He feared he’d done things much worse to them. Letting out a moan, he slid down to the floor and sat there, Indian-style, gritting his teeth. Silence encircled him like a warm soft blanket wrapped around his shoulders; it was all too quiet but for the barely audible whizzing and moaning, and groaning and jangling of the TARDIS engines. The noise, so comforting, so peaceful, reached out to every corner of the console room and yet it was unable to beat the loneliness. The loneliness was the audible silence. The loneliness was visible, the loneliness hung in the air, so thick, so dense, so heavy that it almost choked the Doctor.  
He could almost hear Donna’s loud, vibrant “Oi!”s, Martha’s confident, soldier-like steps echoing on the floor. He could hear Jack’s innuendos hanging in the air, and Mickey’s snorts, and Sarah Jane’s exclaims. But most of all, most loudly, most vividly, he could hear Rose’s laughter. It rang in the air, it stuck to the walls and the floors, it clung on the levers and buttons. Her scent lingered, sweet and gentle, and a little bit ticklish on his nose. His hand still remembered her touch. Rose Tyler was imprinted on him, and her absence stung more painfully than anything else.  
And then, all of a sudden, he wasn’t alone. He could feel the other being’s presence. Tentatively, he straightened his back but showed no other sign of acknowledgement. The Doctor could feel the steps, however light, and he could sense the movements, however small and insignificant. 

“Are you afraid,” a familiar voice whispered and the Doctor felt the blood freeze in his veins. His hearts skipped a beat. “of the big bad wolf, Doctor?”  
The voice dragged on, echoed in every inch of the place, touched every surface. The intake of breath was so sharp that it shocked the Doctor himself. Before he knew it, he was up on his feet, facing her. But there was something wrong, something so wrong. She had the voice and she had the looks – her wavy blonde hair framing her white face, and her fragile tiny body – but something was not normal, something was so not right. Rose tilted her head to the left, a lock of hair falling over her face, and she gave him a quizzical look. In matter of seconds, her eyes had lost their brown colour and they shone in gold, the soft, warm light caressing the Doctor. 

He let out a groan.

She was dressed in white, a long, transparent dress wrapped around her body. She was illuminating, a sort of golden effluvium was radiating from her, making her seem unrealistic, mirage-like. She seemed to flicker, like a candle in the wind, and she floated rather than walked. Her scent was different; she used to smell like tea and ginger, and Jackie’s jumpers, and honey.  
The Doctor swallowed hard. Torn between desire and worry, he reached out, trying to touch her. It was so painful that it felt like having both his hearts squeezed by a stone hand. 

“But you’re not Rose,” he whispered, and hesitantly licked his lips, fighting back the tears. “You’re not my Rose, so who are you?”

The incandescent figure in white smiled and in the blink of an eye, she was sitting cross-legged on the console, her head cocked. Her voice was more like humming, a slight buzzing, and as she let out a harsh laugh, it sounded more like a jingle.

“You’ve met me and you don’t remember me,” she said in a singsong tone, arching an eyebrow. “I am the Moment, and I quite liked this face the previous time.”

The Doctor felt a shortness of breath as he watched this pseudo-Rose grin wolfishly, twirling a blonde curl around her finger. The Moment. The name hit him like a tidal wave, and the little he remembered from that day almost suffocated him. The face he’d struggled to forget. The day he’d sworn not to remember. His palms were sweaty and he hesitantly pressed them to his thighs, sliding them down the fabric. It felt rough beneath his hand, as did the air as he tried to breathe. Every sensation had intensified. 

The Moment winked seductively, and cocked her head with wonder. The consciousness it had developed had now grown into hunger. Passionate desire. The Moment wanted to feed, to destroy. Slyly, she dematerialised behind the Doctor, sliding her arm around his waist, resting her chin on his shoulder. He stiffened, swallowing hard.

“You miss your Rose, don’t you?” the Moment whispered like a tune. “Rose Tyler, Defender of Earth, and you, Doctor, the Destroyer of worlds.”

The Moment pressed her lips to his ear, slowly hissing, sending chills down his spine. “I could give her back to you, Doc, you know I could.”  
Her hands slid slowly down his chest, then rested on his abdomen, and she finally hooked her fingers in the belt-loops of his trousers. The Doctor let out a husky breath and balled his fists as she appeared in front of him, one arm around his waist, her other hand cupping his cheek. 

“Just one word, just say yes,” the Moment whispered, her breath tickling the Doctor’s skin. He closed his eyes, breath whizzing between his pursed lips. It wasn’t Rose – he knew that very well, but she looked like her and talked like her, and her touch evoked in him the same sensations. Her fingers tenderly traced the outline of his jaw

“No,” slipped from the tip of his tongue as her chest pressed against his. 

“I could,” the Moment exclaimed, an edge of offense in her voice. “I could give her back, I could make her immortal. The two of you, together, travelling the Universe,” she purred in his ear, the words rolling like music into his ears. 

Hope, like a giant metallic hand, tightened around him, wrapped him, squeezed him, and he burned. A quiet “what if” rang in the back of his mind and the vivid memory of his Rose exploded in his head, what if, what if, what if. The taste of her lips against his stung, and he let out a little moan. He’d been selfish so many times; what was one more time, after all? Surely, the last time he’d interacted with the Moment, he’d wiped off both his species and the Daleks’, but it would do no harm now, would it?

The Moment flickered, disappeared and reappeared again on the console, her arms folded. 

“It’s not that much what I’m asking,” she twisted the words in her mouth before spitting them out. “Just a tiny little favour, Doctor.”

He tucked his hands in his pockets, carefully shifting his weight, and his fingers felt for the sonic screwdriver; if need be, he had to be armed. Fear was now slowly creeping into his mind, invading every corner, crawling slowly along his nerves. He tentatively licked his lips. 

The Moment laughed harshly, quickly, making the Doctor flinch. “A constellation, Doc. The constellation of Amaros. The planets are decrepit, the entire constellation is suffering.. They’ve caught the Space Plague and you can save them, Doctor. It’s just a big red button.”

It took him some time to figure out what she was saying, the words spreading like mist through his mind, heavily sinking in. Gallifrey burned in his head and he felt tears filling his eyes as the pain and guilt of all he’d done pierced his hearts. It was always there, the memory of his planet, the Gallifreyans screaming, the sounds of war tearing the universe. Then he imagined the constellation – hundreds of solar systems, thousands of planets, billion billions of children, all of them burning, their cries exploding throughout the galaxy. 

“No,” he said firmly, fire burning in his eyes. “Not in a thousand years-“

“But they’re doomed anyways!” The Moment rolled her eyes in exasperation, barely containing a sigh. “They’re dying and you can put them out of their misery.”

“I’ve committed genocide once, and I’m not planning on making a habit out of it,” his words echoed; he stepped forward, tightening his grip on the screwdriver. His face was so stern, such anger was written over it, that the Moment shuddered. 

“But you don’t know what you’re giving up! Let me show you what you and Rose can have,” the words slipped gently and fell easily into the Doctor’s ears, so charming, so enchanting. The Moment, illuminated, surrounded by fiery, trembling light, reached out and grabbed the Doctor’s hand, her fingers slipping comfortably in the spaces between his. Everything fell silent and then, angelic light poured out of the console, blinding the Doctor, softly turning the world pearly white.

 

She was standing there, in a fluffy blue sweater, her shiny blonde hair waist-length now. He didn’t know how long it had been for her but the years had left a mark on her face. She had slightly noticeable lines around her eyes and seriousness on her face that hadn’t been there before. But the smile on her lips and the sparks in her eyes were still there, and she was Rose, his Rose, with flushed cheeks and brown eyes full of stars. 

“Hasn’t changed a bit,” she said cheerfully and her voice trembled with emotion. The Doctor’s future self, his hair messier than ever, a huge permanent grin stamped on his face, approached her and she stood on tiptoes, cupping his cheek and staring into the vastness of his beautiful eyes. 

“It’s good to have you back, Rose Tyler,” the Doctor said, opening his arms and she fell into his embrace as though she’d always belonged there, as though she were finally home. A soft, sweet laughter rolled out of his lips and she buried her face in his chest, breathing him in, holding him tightly. His hands rested in her small back, gripping her tightly, clinging on to her as though for dear life.  
When they finally let go, somewhat reluctantly, she rested her hands on his chest, fighting back a chuckle. The present Doctor held on to the Moment, watching them from afar, and felt tears welling up in his eyes; he bit the inside of his cheek fighting the urge to break down. 

“Can – can you stop, I’ve seen enough, I-“

“But you haven’t seen the best yet!” the Moment exclaimed, tugging at his sleeve. “Now comes the best part!”

Rose spun on her heels, leaning on the console, a wide smile curling her lips. The future Doctor stared at her lovingly as she pulled levers and pressed buttons. 

“Let’s see if I still remember how to fly this thing,” she whispered under her breath as the Doctor stepped closer, helping her.

“Where to, Rose?” he asked, purring in her ear. 

“Does it really matter when I’m with you? Surprise me,” she glowed. 

The TARDIS landed softly, though with a heavy groan, and Rose ran eagerly to open the doors: that was one of the things she had missed most, being the first one to see the new world, to feel the new world, to smell it, to taste it. She found herself in a snowy field, which went on and on, for thousands and thousands of miles, as far as she could see in all directions. Snowflakes were falling from the pitch-black, starless sky, millions and millions of them, doing their little snowflake dance and gracefully landing, turning into gigantic snow dunes.  
Rose let out a happy squeal and when she turned around, the Doctor was leaning on the TARDIS, hands deep in the pockets of his brown striped suit, grinning from ear to ear. 

“You once said you wanted snow, so I took you to the Snowy planet.”

She stretched her arms and threw back her head, looking up at the sky. The present Doctor approached his future self and they stood there, amid the snow, side by side, staring at the woman they loved. Rose was like frozen in the moment. As the Doctor watched her, his hearts tearing in pieces, he almost choked on the tears that were threatening to soon start rolling down his cheeks.  
She just stood there, knee-deep in snow, her arms like angelic winds. She caught snowflakes with her tongue and laughed melodically, the sweet sound of her happiness ringing and echoing and reaching into the Doctor’s heart. He realised that this was how he wanted to remember her, forever, this was how he wanted her to be imprinted on his mind: rosy lips spread in a wide smile, eyes closed, face flushed with the cold - her cheeks pink and her nose bright red; snowflakes in her hair, snowflakes on her eyelashes, her back arched, laughter pouring out of her sweet mouth. 

The Doctor watched her and fell in love over and over again, like he had fallen so many years ago. His future self approached Rose, putting his hands on her waist. She cocked her head, arched and eyebrow and moments later he was lying in the snow, with Rose sitting on top of him, her fingers on his sides.

“Are you ticklish, Doctor?” she asked in a squeaky voice and her fingers rolled up and down his sides as he rocked back and forth in silent laughter, unable to catch his breath so as to make her stop. And very soon they were rolling in the snow, fighting with snowballs, making snow angels. The present Doctor, no longer fighting the tears back, watched them silently. She made him so human, so carefree, so happy. She made him gentle, she made him soft and better, so much better. 

“That’s enough, okay?” he said, his voice shaking violently. “Please, stop this, I am begging you.”

The Moment chuckled. “Hush now, the best is yet to come.”

Rose had found herself on top of the Doctor yet again. Both of them were out of breath, wet and blushing, their stomachs aching from laughter. He pulled her down, too suddenly for her too realise. Moments later their lips were locked. Rose let out a soft moan and grabbed the front of his shirt, responding to the kiss with her entire body. His one hand rested on her back, the other was buried in her long blonde locks, pressing her head closer.

In a flash, they were back in the TARDIS. Rose was sitting cross-legged on the floor, a steaming mug of hot chocolate in her hands, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. The Doctor’s had was resting his head in her lap and they were talking cheerfully, catching up on what they’d missed in each other’s lives-

“NO, NO, NO, CUT IT OUT!” The present Doctor yelled, pulling out his sonic screwdriver from the inside pocket of his suit jacket. “Stop that right now; for God’s sake TAKE – ME – BACK!”

 

And just like that, Rose and the future Doctor were gone. The Moment was sitting on the console, her effluvium dress rippling around her legs as though exposed on the wind. 

“No need to get so worked up,” she shrugged, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. She let out an irritated tsk, and frowned. “Now but that screwdriver back in your pocket, Doc, no need to get violent now.”

Her voice dragged. The Doctor swallowed hard and squeezed the sonic so hard that his knuckled whitened. 

“The constellation of Amaros for an eternity of Rose Tyler,” the Moment cocked her head. “Come on, now, is the price too high?” 

All the Doctor could think of was Rose, that beautiful lonely flower in the snowy field, and a sharp pain pierced his hearts. Just a constellation, he thought, and he would have his Rose back. What was one more destruction for the monster he had turned into? Why would it matter? 

And then he remembered why. Never cruel or cowardly. Never cruel. Never cruel… He was the Doctor, and that was not how he did things, this was not his way. Begging Rose for forgiveness for that times that could have been but never were and never would be, he stepped closer to the Moment.

“No,” he said, forcing himself not to cry. “No, I’m not doing this. Rose would never forgive me if I did that. She would never want to trade billions of lives for a selfish moment of happiness. No. Never. Now. Get out. Get out of my TARDIS, out.”

He needn’t raise his voice. His posture, the ferociousness in his eyes, the way he held on to his sonic spoke for themselves. The Moment knew she had lost. Before she dissolved into thin air, she let out a quiet hiss.

“You will be forever haunted by this choice of yours, Doc.”

After the Moment disappeared, the Doctor flew the TARDIS to the Snowy planet. He sat there, alone in the snow for hours, his eyes fixed on the starless, endless sky, his thoughts far away, on a beach where he’d left his Rose alone.


End file.
